


wish you were the one

by celeste9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Backstory, Banter, Break Up, Complicated Relationships, Dancing, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: Cadet Poe Dameron is irritatingly friendly, offensively attractive, and everything Hux hates. Hux wishes they had never met. He wishes Dameron would stop annoyingly inserting himself into Hux's life.But mostly he just wishes he would stop allowing Dameron to annoyingly insert himself into Hux's life.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lurrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurrel/gifts).



> This is a bit of the 'enemies to lovers' trope in reverse, hope you like it! With thanks to my friend for prompting the idea, then I got a bit carried away. :) Title from The Civil Wars.

Hux hates the New Republic military academy he’s been stuck in. He doesn’t see the point. He has absolutely no desire to be an officer in their pathetic excuse for a military.

His father, however, insists that Hux be aware of what they will be facing. They must stay in the shadows for now, he says, and in the meantime, Hux should learn all he can.

It has been a long few years and Hux won’t graduate for another year. He steels himself for the slog ahead.

He has, nevertheless, devoted himself fully to his courses. He is certainly not going to be outdone by the pathetic masses in the academy, the sons and daughters of nobodies, of rebel scum from the days of the Empire. He is at the top of his class.

He feels this is only proper.

Then he meets Dameron.

-

“I’m so sorry,” the kid – man – says after he’s tumbled straight into Hux, dropping a box full of tools and mechanical scraps all over the floor. Hux only just manages to get his toes out of the way in time. “Frag, I’m sorry.”

He is short and compact, with black wavy hair. He looks young. He must be new. All the new blood looks increasingly young to Hux. Hux looks down his nose at him. “Perhaps you might try looking where you’re going in the future.”

The man smiles sheepishly. “I’ve been told I leap before I look.” He bends down to pick up what he’s dropped, plunking it back into the box.

Hux doesn’t help him. “A precarious way to live.”

“But a fun one.” The man’s smile is almost offensively charming. It’s lucky Hux is immune to charm. “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“Hux,” Hux says after a beat.

“Just Hux?”

“Hux will be fine.” He doesn’t feel the need to share any more with this… Dameron.

Dameron shrugs. “Hux it is. I’ve seen you around.”

“Fascinating.”

“Actually I’d been warned off you. They say you’re an asshole.”

Hux raises an eyebrow. “So why are you still talking to me?”

“I don’t like to judge people based on what everyone else says. Having a reputation doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“And? What’s your verdict?” Hux doesn’t know why he cares. Actually, he doesn’t care. He’s simply curious. That’s all.

Dameron’s smile really is offensive. “Think I’ll need more than a first meeting to answer that. After all, I did literally run into you. Can’t blame a guy for being grumpy because of that.”

Grumpy. Stars.

Dameron straightens, settling the box in his arms. “See you around, Hux.”

“I certainly hope not.”

As he walks away, Dameron laughs and raises his hand in a wave.

-

Hux does see Dameron around. Suddenly it seems the man is everywhere, though they share no courses. Dameron is on track to be a pilot, to earn a commission in the Navy, and he is a few years behind Hux. 

The Navy suits him, Hux thinks. Dameron might think a single meeting too little to judge a person but Hux feels he can read Dameron immediately. He leaves himself open for the world to see, friendly, rash, probably driven by a love of excitement. 

He is, Hux thinks, everything Hux is not.

Hux finds him curious, and oddly fascinating. He tells himself that’s why he spends so much time watching him, and why he lets Dameron continue to bother him. Because Dameron does bother him; he constantly comes over to talk to him, to walk with him, to sit with him at meals sometimes.

If he finds Dameron not unpleasant to look at, with his tan skin and warm eyes and the perfect waves of his hair, well, that’s irrelevant.

He looks good in his flight suit. Hux isn’t entirely sure how this is possible; the flight suits are bulky and unflattering.

And yet.

Dameron and his classmates have only just begun getting actual airtime rather than simply using the simulators. Hux can always tell when Dameron’s been in the air because he always looks so jubilant, like flying is life and nothing else matters.

Hux can appreciate that sort of fervor and dedication. He can also appreciate the glow in Dameron’s skin and the vibrancy in his expression. Hux sometimes wonders what it would feel like to capture that, to grab Dameron when he comes out of his cockpit and have him, push him against a wall in the hangar and – 

But he always squashes those feelings. He feels himself getting a bit flustered and carefully straightens his uniform. Dameron is wild and carefree and not the sort of person Hux should want.

Hux doesn’t want him. Dameron is as representative of the New Republic as a person can get and he is… annoying. Hux finds him annoying. Genetically gifted, perhaps, but annoying.

He is certainly annoying when he slides into a chair next to Hux in the archive room where Hux had been researching and touches Hux’s wrist. “Hey, Armitage.”

Hux blinks at him. “What?”

“That is your name, isn’t it? Wasn’t hard to find out. Not a lot of Huxes around here.”

“I prefer Hux.”

Dameron shrugs. “Okay. Hux. Whatever you want.”

“What exactly is it you want, Dameron?”

“I don’t want anything. Just to get to know you better, maybe. Also, you can call me Poe.”

“I have an appointment, Dameron,” Hux says, gathering up his belongings. He doesn’t have an appointment. He wasn’t even finished. He is mildly ashamed of himself for allowing Dameron to push him off-balance so easily.

“It’s Poe!” Dameron calls after him. He sounds like he’s laughing.

-

Sometimes Hux takes a more roundabout path that happens to lead him towards the hangar bay where Dameron and his fellow cadets spend a good deal of time. He likes the scenery and he thinks it’s good to get some extra walking in. The fact that it takes him by the hangar bay is incidental, really.

This afternoon he sees Dameron, walking with a group of his friends. He is laughing, listening to something a dark-skinned girl is saying. He’s in his flight suit but it’s open partway down his chest, showing the black t-shirt he has on underneath.

Dameron isn’t even looking at Hux, too absorbed in his friends and their undoubtedly extremely fascinating conversation. In a moment he’ll have gone past without even noticing Hux is nearby.

Hux doesn’t know why he does it. One second he’s walking along and the next he’s moved too close, bumping into Dameron with his shoulder.

Dameron gets knocked slightly off-balance and even though it clearly wasn’t his fault he immediately begins apologizing. “Shit, I’m so sorry, man, I-- Hux?”

“You should watch you’re going,” Hux says, straightening his collar.

The girl starts, “Actually, I think--”

But Dameron jabs her with an elbow until she gives up. “This is actually kinda lucky, Hux. I’ve got a session in the air but maybe I can see you after?”

Dameron’s friends are gaping at him. Dameron himself looks hopeful.

“I don’t think so,” Hux says and pretends he doesn’t care when he sees Dameron’s expression crumple.

Then Dameron reaches out and brushes Hux’s shoulder with his fingertips, just for an instant. “Maybe some other time.”

And somehow Hux is saying, “Maybe,” instead of the forceful ‘no’ he wants to say.

Dameron smiles at him, small and sweet.

Hux walks on and hates himself a little bit.

-

Hux rarely goes out.

He doesn’t quite see the point in surrounding himself with strangers and purposely lowering his inhibitions. Clubs and bars are dirty and crowded and undoubtedly filled with unpleasant smells and drunken lifeforms he would rather not associate with. He has plenty to occupy himself with. There is a reason he is top of his class.

That said, he does enjoy the occasional drink. Usually a nice whiskey.

It’s simply unfortunate that the best whiskey on this planet is found at a popular club.

Hux is currently nursing a glass when he notices that Dameron is here, surrounded by his friends, laughing and clearly enjoying himself. It figures that Dameron would be a clubbing sort of person. Hux can’t help but notice how good he looks, the artful waves of his hair, the flush in his cheeks, the tight pants, the open collar of his shirt.

Hux wishes they had never met.

He wishes Dameron would stop appearing in his life constantly.

As Hux watches, Dameron goes out onto the dance floor, taking his Keshian friend with him. After a while the dark-skinned human girl joins them. Hux tries not to watch. He really does.

It isn’t his fault if the way Dameron moves is enthralling.

He isn’t sure what makes Dameron look Hux’s way but he does, lips spreading into a warm smile. He makes excuses to his friends and then he’s walking over. Hux considers fleeing but he knows it’s too late. He’s been caught.

Dameron leans against Hux’s table. He’s a little bit sweaty and Hux doesn’t know why he finds that appealing. It should be off-putting.

“Never expected to see you here, Hux.”

“I like the drink selection.” Hux takes a sip to emphasize his point.

Dameron laughs. “Suppose that’s as good a reason as any. You here by yourself?”

“Do you see anyone else?”

“You know, it helps to actually talk to people if you want to get laid.”

“I’m not trying to get laid,” Hux says, hoping his tone adequately conveys his horror at the suggestion. As if he would go to a filthy club to try to pick someone up.

“Okay,” Dameron says, unbothered.

“Your friends keep looking over here,” Hux says, gesturing. “I suspect they’re considering whether they should rescue you or not.”

“They don’t understand why I keep talking to you.”

“I’m not sure I understand, either.”

Dameron shrugs. “I like you. And you’re cute.”

Hux ignores the ‘cute’ part. He finds himself tremendously puzzled as to why Dameron would actually like him. Hux doesn’t think he’s been particularly nice. “You have strange taste.”

Touching Hux’s hand briefly, Dameron says, “I’d like to think I have incredibly discerning taste which everyone else simply hasn’t caught up to yet. Which probably works in my favor, I mean, you were over here all alone, just waiting for me.”

“Actually, I wasn’t waiting for anyone,” Hux insists. “I was enjoying my drink in private before you came to bother me.”

“You were watching me,” Dameron says. He wets his bottom lip with his tongue. “I saw you.”

“I happened to glance over.”

“Hmm. Okay, Hux, sure.”

Being around Dameron somehow makes Hux revert to a five-year-old, desperately seeking attention through foolishness. Hux knows this. He isn’t proud of it, but he knows it. 

He expects that’s why he lets himself accidentally tip what’s left of his glass all over Dameron’s front. 

“Damn,” Dameron says, wiping uselessly at his shirt.

“So sorry,” Hux says. “Someone bumped into me.” He doesn’t actually feel sorry.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dameron says, and then he is removing his shirt.

_He’s taking his shirt off in the middle of the club._

“I don’t think this is that sort of club,” Hux tries, but Dameron grins at him once he gets the shirt off over his head, tossing it carelessly onto the table.

“Tank top. See? Hot in here anyway.”

This was a mistake.

Dameron is lean but more muscled than Hux, with nice shoulders. His skin is a warm, golden tan that’s offset attractively by the white of his sleeveless shirt.

Hux swallows involuntarily.

“Dance with me, Hux,” Dameron says. 

“I don’t dance.”

“You don’t dance? You think you’re going to be an officer and not dance? Even cadets have functions to go to.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh, it’s different, huh?” Dameron moves closer to Hux; his body is warm. “You worried I’ll get too close to you? Dance a little too dirty? Worried you might like it?”

“You can be certain that is the last thing I was concerned with.”

Dameron’s sly smile indicates that he doesn’t quite buy it. “Then what are you afraid of?”

“Nothing. I’m afraid I simply don’t see the point.”

“The point, Hux,” Dameron says, sliding his hand over Hux’s hip, “is fun.”

“Fun makes me ill,” Hux says but he’s letting Dameron lead him away anyway.

“Do it for me,” Dameron says when they’re out on the floor, in the middle of a crowd of lifeforms who have had too much to drink and who are engaged in what, Hux assumes, is meant to be dancing. In many cases couples are simply grinding against each other and he thinks they would enjoy themselves better in their bedrooms.

They would at least be more likely to get an orgasm out of it, in any case.

Dameron is biting his lip and Hux doesn’t know why that prompts a jolt of attraction to rush through his body. It doesn’t help that Dameron is crowding against him, coaxing Hux’s hands onto his hips. He smells woodsy and it’s far more appealing than it should be.

“I’m not sure why I should do anything for you, Dameron,” Hux says but he lets Dameron keep him close, lets himself sway a little to the beat.

Hux feels awkward and ungainly, as he always does in such circumstances, but particularly in comparison to Dameron. Dameron moves with a smooth confidence, comfortable in his skin and keeping an easy rhythm with the music. 

When Dameron just keeps moving, bringing Hux along with him, Hux says, “I fail to see how this is fun.”

“Relax for five seconds,” Dameron says. “You might actually enjoy yourself.”

“I doubt it.”

“Enjoy the company, then.”

“You assume I like you,” Hux says, but Dameron only smiles at him.

Hux keeps his hands on Dameron’s hips, which are admittedly fascinating. He tells himself that in order to fail to be sexually attracted to Dameron while he rolls his hips and rubs up against him, he would need to completely lack a sex drive. 

Hux does not lack a sex drive. 

He can feel himself sweating and the music feels like it’s pounding within his skull and after a while it starts to feel like everyone else fades away, and it’s only Hux and Dameron. He knows that’s ridiculous, especially when someone knocks into him from behind, but it seems like the rest of the club doesn’t matter anymore. Only Dameron matters, there before him, the curve of his smile, the press of his hands and his body.

“Admit it,” Dameron says. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

“I admit no such thing,” Hux says, but there’s warmth in his cheeks and he likes the way Dameron feels this close.

He stays with Dameron for the rest of the evening, into the late hours of the night. Or perhaps they’re the early hours of morning; he rather loses track of time. All he knows is that he ends up sitting with Dameron outside the club, looking at the stars, their arms pressed together, and he thinks maybe this sort of fun might agree with him, after all.

-

Hux has been watching Dameron in the air. It’s early evening and Dameron is logging in extra time. Hux didn’t see him enter the cockpit but he knows it’s Dameron all the same; he can tell by the way he flies.

None of the other cadets fly like Dameron.

When he comes down, Hux is still there. He had considered leaving but… Well. He didn’t. It doesn’t really matter why.

Dameron smiles when he sees him, his helmet in the crook of his elbow, and says, “Give me a second, okay? Let me get rid of my gear.”

“I don’t have all night, Dameron,” Hux says but Dameron just waves a hand at him and jogs off.

Hux waits.

When Dameron returns he’s out of his flight suit but he’s still sweaty, his hair curling, his black tank top sticking to him. He must have just shed the flight suit and ran back over.

“You stink,” Hux says, but he doesn’t move back when Dameron stands right in front of him. He finds himself strangely fascinated by a stray curl of hair by Dameron’s ear.

“You told me you didn’t have all night.” Dameron’s smirking faintly. “What are you out here for, anyway?”

Fuck. What _is_ he out here for? He can’t very well admit that he enjoys watching Dameron fly, or that he was hoping to see him. He tries to think of an excuse but his mind is irritatingly blank and he keeps watching that curl of hair, a bead of sweat at the hollow of Dameron’s throat. He has a horrible, horrible urge to lick it.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hux says, trying to sneer, but he feels thrown off-guard and Dameron’s smile is disarmingly touched.

“Hux,” Dameron says, and somehow he’s moved even closer, head tilting back slightly as he looks up to meet Hux’s eyes. “You can admit that you like me, you know.”

“I can’t admit to something that isn’t true.”

“You might be able to fool everyone else, but not me. I know you better.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to know you very well,” Dameron says quietly. His eyelashes seem terribly long, or maybe it’s just that Hux has never looked at someone’s eyelashes so closely.

He struggles to remember what he’s doing, where this conversation is going. “Sometimes reputations are earned.”

“Your point?”

“I actually am an asshole. I’ve tried to be one.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Hux,” Dameron murmurs, sliding one hand behind Hux’s neck to pull him down.

Hux knows he should protest but Dameron is right there, and his lips are soft, and he kisses like Hux is someone he wants. 

So Hux kisses him. He threads his fingers into Dameron’s sweat-damp hair and kisses him soft and slow while Dameron presses against him, lean and solid. He doesn’t know why he moves his hands slowly down Poe’s spine, feeling the muscles of his back, or why he pulls Dameron’s hips in closer, but he does. Realistically Hux knows it must be only a few moments but it feels like an age before Dameron nips at his lip and pulls back.

Dameron’s mouth is wet and he licks his lips. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He grins. “Though, I can think of something else that is hard.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe another time. I’m not that easy.”

Hux resists the dreadful urge to roll his eyes. “Are you ever serious?”

“I’m a first year, I’m not supposed to be serious. Isn’t that why you like me? My fun-loving nature warms your jaded soul?”

“I find you more a minor annoyance, actually.”

“Ooh, only a minor one? That’s almost a compliment.”

“Poe,” Hux says without thinking and immediately wishes he could take it back.

 _Poe._ What the hell. But as soon as he’s said it somehow it feels right; he looks at Poe and can’t make himself think _Dameron_ anymore. Poe. Poe.

Poe’s smile is wide and maybe faintly smug, but mostly happy. “Oh, it’s Poe now, is it? If I’d known that was all it would take I would’ve kissed you a long time ago.”

Hux doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t quite trust himself.

“So if I’m Poe now, are you Armitage? No? Still Hux?” Poe shrugs. “I can live with that. Easier to say if I let you fuck me.”

Hux’s mouth goes a little dry.

Poe’s smile is clearly saying, _yeah, I said it._

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Hux,” Poe says, and Hux can’t help but watch his ass as he goes.

Fuck.

-

The kissing becomes sort of a thing.

Poe pulls Hux into corners and kisses him until Hux can’t think straight, until he forgets why this is a bad idea, until he forgets that he isn’t supposed to like Poe, that Poe is aggravating and frustrating and the opposite of what Hux wants. Poe gives him these lazy, satisfied smiles that remind Hux of a cat that his neighbor had when Hux was a child. 

Poe takes special pleasure in ruffling Hux’s hair, in untucking Hux’s shirt and sliding his hands up Hux’s back, in ruining Hux’s perfect, straight lines. He sucks at Hux’s neck and threatens to leave bruises but then laughingly relents. 

“I like you when you’re mussed,” he says with that smug cat-smile. “I like being the one who does it to you.”

Hux supposes it was only inevitable that they would end up in Hux’s bed one night, their uniforms scattered across the floor, Poe sliding his heel up and down the back of Hux’s calf as they rock their hips together and Hux nips the skin beneath Poe’s ear.

“I’ve actually never done this before,” Poe admits, the faintest of blushes in his cheeks.

“It might surprise you,” Hux says, stroking his hand through Poe’s soft hair, “but I’m not such an expert myself. I’m an asshole, remember? Not too many people are into that.”

Poe laughs. “Lucky you’ve got me, then,” he says, pulling Hux’s head down to kiss him.

If he’s nervous it doesn’t stop him from being open and pliant and expressive, every sigh and every moan letting Hux know exactly what he’s into.

It’s good. Better than Hux might have thought it would be. They’re maybe a bit clumsy but Poe laughs so easily, making it all seem okay. He is eager and generous and he throws himself into sex the same way he does everything else. Hux enjoys the feel of Poe’s smooth skin, of his lean muscles, of his soft lips. He likes the way Poe feels pressed against him, beneath him, and the way he murmurs Hux’s name like it’s important.

He lets Poe stay the night and when he wakes Poe is still there, half-sprawled across Hux’s chest, his knee jabbing into Hux’s groin.

He realizes that he doesn’t mind.

-

Poe slots himself into Hux’s life and somehow it feels easy. Poe meets him after classes; they have meals together; he comes to Hux’s room and they study and sometimes (often, actually) have sex and then they wake up together the next morning.

Occasionally (very occasionally) they spend time with Poe’s friends, too. Hux knows they don’t approve; he knows they don’t care for him. He knows they think Poe can do better; they think Hux isn’t good for him. He knows that this bothers Poe.

Hux tries to be a bit less of an asshole when they’re around. He suspects he’s only reasonably successful but Poe squeezes his hand and smiles at him and it makes this weird feeling grow in Hux’s chest.

Poe is just a pleasant distraction, Hux tells himself. He deserves a pleasant distraction to help him through his last year in this hellhole. He’s… he’s blending in, that’s all. He can like Poe’s smile and Poe’s face and Poe’s stupid perfect hair; he can like the way Poe moans his name when he comes and the sloppy way he kisses when he’s tired and affectionate. Hux thinks those are things that are fairly objectively pleasing. 

But when Poe strokes his fingers down Hux’s arm and looks up at him with soft, wide eyes, saying, “I love you,” Hux realizes he might have made a mistake.

 _No,_ Hux thinks. _No, you can’t, this isn’t…_

He’s let this go too far. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was lust, that’s all, lust and animal attraction and -

The worst part is that Poe is just watching him, equal parts hopeful, expectant, and resigned, and Hux can’t…

He _can’t._

He kisses Poe and pushes him towards the bed, until Poe is falling back and Hux is sprawled on top of him. Poe spreads his legs open and sighs into Hux’s mouth.

Hux knows this is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

But he can’t make himself stop.

-

Hux is a person who has always enjoyed his space. He has a firm belief that people should keep themselves to themselves.

Poe does not believe this. Poe likes to touch. He likes to lean in too close; he likes to spread his palm over Hux’s hip while they walk; he likes to sleep curled together and he likes to lean against Hux when they sit.

Hux still likes space. But he minds Poe taking up his space less than he thought he would.

They’re on Hux’s bed, studying. Poe is absently stroking Hux’s calves while he looks at starfighter specs on his datapad. 

Then he says, “Is your father Brendol Hux? Who served the Empire?”

Hux doesn’t ask where Poe would have learned that name. He doesn’t need to. His father served the Empire loyally and well.

“Would it matter if he is?”

Poe is chewing on his lip but he shakes his head. “No. Children aren’t responsible for their parents’ actions. And if we forgave no one who served the Empire, then…” He shrugs.

It’s a bit naïve, a bit idealistic, and very Poe. Hux wonders what Poe would say if he knew what Brendol Hux was doing to this day in the Unknown Regions.

He finds that he doesn’t really want to know.

“Yes,” Hux says. “My father is Brendol Hux.”

Poe nods as though that was what he was expecting. “Suppose that’s why you’re so tight-assed,” he jokes.

“You seem to like my ass just fine.”

Poe’s laugh is startled. “Was that a joke? Hux, I’m proud of you.”

“Must be your dubious influence.”

Poe leans in to smack a messy kiss to Hux’s mouth. Hux half-heartedly pushes him, mostly for show. 

“Why did you ask?” Hux says. “About my father?”

Shrugging, Poe says, “Dunno. Curious, I guess. You don’t talk about your family.”

“My family life isn’t much like yours,” Hux says because that’s more true than Poe will ever know.

Poe’s eyes soften the way Hux expected them to, indicating that he’s taking exactly what Hux wanted him to take from that statement. Poe is most likely picturing a stark, cold family home. He is thinking of how Hux was probably never hugged, or told that he is loved, or congratulated on anything. He is imagining the opposite of his own childhood.

It doesn’t matter if it’s true. Hux only needs Poe to focus on that so he won’t consider what a dedicated Imperial might have raised his son to be.

Poe’s words are still a bit surprising. “Was he disappointed? That you came here?”

 _It was his idea,_ Hux thinks, but he doesn’t think he can spin that. “He has no love for the New Republic.”

“But you do?”

Even Hux can’t lie that well, and certainly not to Poe’s face. “I didn’t come here for the New Republic. I came here to be an officer, and this is the only military there is.”

Poe frowns. “That’s not much of a reason.”

“Why are you here?”

“To fly,” Poe says immediately. “The Navy has the best ships. And because… because I do believe in the New Republic. My parents fought for this.”

Hux can’t help himself. “You think this is a success?”

Poe’s eyes are glinting dangerously. He has withdrawn from Hux so they are no longer touching at all. “You think it isn’t? You think the Empire was better?” 

“The Senate stymies itself, everyone too busy arguing to actually get anything done. Mon Mothma is barely a figurehead with no true power.”

“You would prefer she has absolute power? As Emperor Palpatine did?”

“There is something to be said for order, for proper rule. There are planets where entire populations starve and the New Republic leaves them to sort themselves out.”

“It isn’t a perfect system but… The Empire _enslaved_ people, Hux. They used non-humanoids as slaves because Palpatine found them inferior. They destroyed an entire planet for no reason but a show of power. The Empire ruled with fear and tried to control people rather than let them live free, as they chose.”

Poe is growing agitated, his eyes bright and his tone dripping fervor. He is looking at Hux like he doesn’t even know him, like he is disgusted.

Hux thinks Poe is a fool but he hates how much he dislikes the way Poe looks at him. 

He backtracks. He tells himself he is only protecting himself. He is protecting his family’s interests. “Of course the Emperor was unfit. I am not proposing a return to those days. I am merely suggesting that there is room for reform.”

Mollified, Poe nods. That look leaves his face and Hux is shamefully relieved. Poe stretches out so his toes brush against Hux’s thigh. “You really just want to be an officer, though? You would be happy because of the insignia on your jacket even if you aren’t fully committed to the cause you’re serving?”

Oh, Hux will be fully committed. It simply won’t be to the New Republic. “I suppose I enjoy the idea of command and power a bit more than you do.”

“I suppose,” Poe says, chewing his lip. He moves closer, sliding his hand over Hux’s thigh. “Maybe you can practice giving out orders right now?” He runs his tongue over his lower lip in the way he knows Hux finds deeply distracting.

“Take off your clothes,” Hux says, and Poe grins.

-

Graduation looms closer. Hux and Poe haven’t discussed it, haven’t discussed what it will mean for them, but it hangs in the air between them.

Hux already knows what it means for them. It means the end. Whatever this… thing is between them, it has to stop.

Hux is not meant for the New Republic. He is hardly more than a spy, gathering intelligence. Poe is filled with ideals and hope, his parents’ foolish rebel blood coursing through his veins.

They are going to be on opposite sides. It’s inevitable. There is no point in trying to forestall what will come no matter what they do and there is no point in holding onto foolish sentimentality.

Hux knows what he wants for his life. There is no room for Poe in it.

So he tells Poe that. Not in quite the same words, but… He thinks Poe gets the idea.

Poe stares at him, like he isn’t quite sure what he’s hearing. “Are you dumping me? Because you’re graduating?”

Hux shrugs. “It’s… neater this way. We both know it won’t work, you here, me… a new officer.”

“It’s _neater_?” Poe steps closer to Hux; he sounds angry. “You’re breaking up with me because it’s _neater_?”

“Don’t make a scene.”

“I’ll fucking make a scene if I want to! You can’t actually be this callous, Hux. I _know_ you.”

Hux digs his nails into his palm behind his back. “I did tell you. Some reputations are earned.”

For a moment Hux thinks Poe might hit him.

Instead he says, “I’ve spent months telling my friends that they don’t know you like I do. They said you were bad for me; they said you would hurt me. At best they said you’d drag me down with you. But I defended you. I defended you,” he repeats, and he sounds like he wants to cry but is too stubborn to do it.

“You shouldn’t have,” Hux says, and his mouth feels dry.

“You’re actually serious. I can’t believe you’re serious about this. You want to get rid of me like an old pair of shoes that doesn’t fit anymore. You won’t even discuss it? Like partners? Because I thought that’s what we were.”

“There isn’t anything to discuss.” It feels harder to meet Poe’s eyes than Hux had thought it would be.

“I love you,” Poe says, and Hux has to force himself not to turn away. He feels – 

_That was your mistake,_ he thinks. _You shouldn’t have loved me. You gave yourself too easily._

Love is dangerous; love is weakness; love is a mistake. Love gets you hurt. Love allows people to hurt you.

Poe’s voice sounds rough, like he is barely holding himself together. “Did you ever love me? You never said it but I thought… I told myself you just didn’t know how; you didn’t know how to show people you care but deep down you felt it. But I was lying to myself, wasn’t I?”

 _I can’t,_ Hux thinks. _You don’t understand._

It doesn’t matter, what Hux does or doesn’t feel. Poe was meant to be a distraction, he was meant to be _fun,_ but whatever he is now, he isn’t something Hux can have. This was a mistake; it was a game that went on too long. 

Now it’s over.

When Hux doesn’t say anything, Poe nods, accepting what he already knows. His damn expressive face is filled with devastation and Hux hates how much that hurts him. 

He isn’t supposed to care. 

Poe moves to the door.

“I hope you get everything you want in life,” he says. He presses his hand to the controls and in a moment he is gone.

Once the room is empty, Hux sinks down into his chair, his legs wobbling. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

This wasn’t supposed to be so hard. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

If Poe knew who Hux really was, he would hate him, and for more than simply breaking his heart. This is better. Perhaps it is even a kindness.

Poe is bright and happy and filled with love. He will find someone to mend his broken heart soon enough. He will find someone far better suited for him than Hux.

Hux only has room in his heart for one thing and he dedicated himself to it long ago.

-

When Hux sets foot into the cell on the _Finalizer_ where it orbits the desert planet of Jakku, he hasn’t seen Poe Dameron in more than a decade. Heard of him, yes – Commander Poe Dameron of the Resistance has been a thorn in the side of the First Order since the day Leia Organa took him from the Navy. 

But Hux hasn’t seen him.

He’s filled out a little and his face is a bit more worn, tell-tale laugh lines by his eyes and mouth, but he still has that kriffing perfect hair. Poe’s eyes widen when he sees Hux and he says, “So you made General after all. Uniform’s not quite what I expected.”

Hux remembers Poe in his bed; he remembers the way the pulse in his neck had fluttered beneath Hux’s lips; he remembers the way Poe had sighed his name.

He is still _Poe_ in Hux’s mind. Not Dameron. Poe.

Hux steps closer. There is a trickle of blood down the side of Poe’s face. He can imagine very well what Poe might have said to earn that.

He meets Poe’s dark eyes and thinks of what he wants in life.

“They tell me you have the map we’re looking for,” he says.


End file.
